Wesley plowed into the oberdaza. The two collided with a loud thrump! They skidded together, then rolled apart. Wesley’s sword was gone from his hands. The arrow in his shoulder had snapped. The taste of blood was in his mouth as he lay facedown, struggling to push himself up. A hot pain burst across his back, but it faded quickly as darkness swallowed him.

Royce twisted but could not break free of the claws that cut into his flesh, struggling to break his grip on Alverstone. He could not grab the shadow. Its body felt loose and slippery, as if it existed only where it wanted. Royce would get a partial grip and then it would dissolve.

Teeth grazed him as the Ghazel snapped, trying to rip his throat out. Each time, Royce knew to move. On the third attempt, he gambled and butted forward with his own head. There was a thunk and pain, but he was able to break free.

He looked around and once more the finisher was invisible.

Royce caught a glimpse of Wesley running across the field with his sword out in front of him, then dodged another attack. He avoided the blow but fell to the ground. Weight hit him once more. This time the claws got a better grip. Rear claws scraped along Royce’s legs, pinning him, stretching him out, holding him helpless. He felt the hot breath again.

There was a noise of impact not far away and a burst of feathers.

Suddenly Royce saw yellow eyes, bright glowing orbs, inches away from his own. Fangs drenched with spit drooled on him.

“Ad haz urba!” the creature said, gibbering.

Alverstone was still in Royce’s hand. He just needed a little movement from his wrist. He spat in the Ghazel’s eye and twisted. Like cutting through ripe fruit, the blade severed the hand of the Ghazel at the wrist. With a howl, the finisher lost support and fell forward. Royce rolled him over, using two hands to restrain his remaining claw, pinning the Ghazel with his knees. The finisher continued to snap, snarl, and rake. Royce severed the goblin’s other hand, and the beast shrieked in pain until Royce removed its head.

The Ghazel warrior staggered suddenly, though Hadrian had not touched him. Trying to keep his distance, Hadrian was a good two sword lengths away, but the warrior clearly rocked as if struck. The Ghazel paused, confidence faded from his eyes, and he hesitated.

Hadrian looked over his shoulder to the hill and spotted Grady’s body, but Wesley was gone. He looked over his opponent’s shoulder and found Wesley on the ground. At his side, the oberdaza lay with the midshipman’s cutlass buried in his chest. As Hadrian watched, the range stabbed Wesley in the back.

“Wesley! No!” he shouted.